


From The Outside

by im_a_supernatural_moose



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Afghanistan, Bad Dreams, CIA, Duke knows, Five-0, Gen, Hospital, M/M, Master-at-arms, Nightmares, Taliban - Freeform, Vague romance undertones, codas, helping friend, other pov, various perspectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5433707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_a_supernatural_moose/pseuds/im_a_supernatural_moose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Outside POVs viewing the McDanno dynamic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Informing Actions

It wasn’t every day that Harris found himself assigned as guard to a highly decorated Navy SEAL. In fact, Harris had never been assigned to guarding a member of the Navy before. P.O.Ws, high-security officials, yeah sure; Navy SEALs who were on an essentially illegal mission to Afghanistan, nope, that was a new one. What was also a new, was the guy who had come over to be by aforementioned SEAL’s sickbed when he was rescued. From the Taliban. Who had been, according to Trevor’s version of the rescue, about ten seconds away from swinging a sword and beheading the guy.

The guy who was sat by the bed, a Hawaiian cop, had been sat there for about three hours. After the team had found the Commander, he’d passed out from exhaustion and injuries. He may have only been held for a short while, but damn it if the Taliban hadn’t done a number on him. Straight to have his injuries looked at, then to the infirmary. The cop had been there ever since. 

Harris felt kind of bad for the guy. It was obvious that he and the Commander were close. How close, Harris didn’t know, but from the way the cop’s eyes kept sweeping up and down McGarrett’s body, it was close enough that he was worrying. Even the fact that the guy had somehow managed to orchestrate a rescue mission and flown to the ‘Stan to help do it said a lot about the relationship.

There was movement on the bed and Harris snapped his eyes down, going from the cop to the SEAL. The cop leant over McGarrett’s body slightly and murmured a greeting. The hoarse reply of “Danny?” informed Harris of the cop’s first name, and the gentle reply of “Yeah, I’m right here.” followed by a gentle touch to the arm that lingered just a second too long, informed Harris of even more. The Commander's question had been filled with emotion that his wife would've called 'heartbreaking'. Confusion and hope and something about it made Harris think of his little boy calling "Mommy?" after a bad dream. These two men weren’t just friends, they were closer than that. Whether it was brotherly or - Harris mentally kicked himself - loverly, he didn’t know, but they were close.

A few more seconds of conversation followed, a woman’s name and a couple of frantic questions from the Commander with the cop calming him, and then the door to the infirmary was pushed open. They’d been informed of the visitors that the Commander would had, so they stayed put. The cop looked up though and the Commander, well, he lingered a few seconds to look at the cop, before slowly turning his head as well.

The man, CIA Harris had been told, strode in and stopped at the end of the bed before telling the cop that he was going to have to leave. The cop just gave a snort and stayed where he was. “No, no, no. I’m staying right here with him.”

“Excuse me?” If it hadn’t been for all his training, Harris would have laughed at the shock in his voice, and the slight movement he detected from Marty told him that he was feeling the same way. The cop’s reply made it even harder for him to refrain from laughing, “I’m not a soldier; you don’t have any authority over me. So I’m gonna stay put.” A brief mental sigh over the terminology he used - sailor, cop, not soldier - and a massive mental round of applause for telling the guy where to shove it - some of the higher ups in the lettered agencies really took the piss and this guy was one of them. 

Still looking slightly shocked over being spoken down to, the man directed all of his attention to McGarrett. “Okay, I’m gonna make this real simple for you, Commander. We know you weren’t over here alone, so unless you want to spend the next ten years in prison, you need to tell me who else was involved and how you got your intel.” The prison threat was empty. Harris knew it, Marty knew it, the guy from the CIA knew it and Commander McGarrett sure as hell knew it as well. The only one who possibly didn’t was the cop but that was highly improbable. 

McGarrett cleared his throat before replying. “You know, Hassan’s boys, they, uh, they knocked me around pretty good. My short term memory’s a little foggy, I’m sorry.”

“Let me ask you something,” CIA replied, “Who the hell do you think you are? Huh? You know, ‘cause once you leave those little islands of yours, you’re a civilian. Now, I want a name and the source of your intel now.” Mental eye roll - this guy’s grammar was awful. 

Harris could already anticipate McGarrett’s reply. “Like I said, I’d love to help you, but I just can’t remember.”

There was a vein in CIA’s forehead hat was slowly becoming more pronounced. It was quite fascinating how the man was reacting. “All right, listen up,” CIA conceded, “Today, you get a pass. But these rogue ops of yours are over. Speaking on behalf of the entire U.S military, you ever set foot in this part of the world again, you’re gonna be in it up to your neck. I don’t care what you did in the service. I will personally throw you in the brig. We clear?” 

Harris had to wonder, just how many times had McGarrett gone rogue? There was a definite plural ‘ops’ in there.

A few seconds passed, the Commander and CIA staring at each other. “Yes, sir,” McGarrett finally replied. Harris could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and from the frown that appeared on the cop’s face, he could hear it to. 

“Good. Now you are gonna get your ass on a plane back to the States. To make sure that happens, these two masters-at-arms are going to escort you,” there was a quick wave in his and Marty’s general direction, “Nice to meet you both.” The last sentence was almost choked out. CIA turned on his heel and walked out.

The cop and the SEAL turned to each other once again. The Commander began to pull on the IV and Harris got ready to go intervene. Before he could move though, the cop had one hand covering the IV and the other pushing McGarrett’s hand away. Words were exchanged, the woman was mentioned again, and eventually the Commander sank back down into his pillow. The cop’s hand stayed covering his though.

Harris noticed a quick flick of the eyes that the cop sent in his direction. He noted the brief squeeze before his hand was removed. There was a few minutes silence.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

There was something akin to wonder in the Commander’s voice as he replied, “I can’t believe you flew all this way.”

“I had to make sure you were okay,” the cop said, and his arm twitched but stayed in place, “Plus, you owe me $500 from that poker game.”

McGarrett began to laugh, but that rapidly turned into a cough, wheezing and painful. The look of concern on the cop’s face increased by about twenty levels and he leant forward, a hand resting on the SEAL’s bicep, lightly gripping him. A few more words were whispered and then the Commander sank back into his pillow again. The cop bit his lip, withdrew his hand and slowly moved it upwards to brush the Commander’s matted hair off of his forehead.

Another quick swipe of his thumb and he brought his arm back to rest on his thigh. The Commander tilted his head slightly. “Thanks, Danno,” he rasped, before sinking into the oblivion that was sleep. 

“Anytime, Steven, anytime.”


	2. Bad Dreams and Soothing Touches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plane ride home from what Danny was now calling Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Jadzia for her wish to read more. I hope it lives up to what she wants.

Marty honestly thought that the Jersey-turned-Hawaiian detective should have a medal of valour, because the way he had told CIA to pretty much stick his head where the sun don't shine was brilliant. The look on the guy's face had made the entire exchange ten thousand times better. He also thought that the guy should have another medal for loyalty because flying all the way to the 'Stan to see his friend rescued from the Taliban wasn't something every guy'd do. So yeah, Williams was a straight-up hero in his own right: comedy, sass, loyalty and from the way he and Commander McGarrett had been interacting with each other, an A+ friend as well. Harris didn't think they were just friends though, and in all honesty, Marty could see where he was coming from.

They stood too close, touched to often and spoke to quietly to be just friends. Whether it was just a really deep friendship or they were going out, neither of them could figure out. From what they'd been able to gather though, the Commander and the Detective spent most of their time together, on and off the job. And damn, if that didn't make Marty want to hedge his bets on them being together.

The two men in question were currently the furthest apart they'd been since McGarrett had been rescued two days ago. Williams was stood slightly further away from the plane, phone in his hand and fingers tapping away, and McGarrett was looking over at him, a thoughtfulness in his eyes. Williams lifted the phone to his ear and glanced over at McGarrett. He grinned a little and quirked an eyebrow before curling a finger and beckoning the Commander towards him. McGarrett raised his eyebrows and smirked in response before striding over. Marty was slightly shocked that the tall SEAL had actually gone over. Words began to drift over to Marty's direction. He knew he shouldn't, but damn he'd always had a curious streak. He perked his ears a little.

"Hey Monkey," the cop said, affection clearly heard in his voice. McGarrett leant in and placed his ear on the other side of the phone, listening in.

"Hey, hey, calm down! Uncle Steve's fine, we're just getting ready to board the plane home," Williams said, his free hand moving despite the person on the other end of the phone being unable to see. The nickname and use of the word 'Uncle' made Marty think it was a child.

"Nice to see where your priorities lie, Monkey. Yes, I'm fine. Yes, I'll be home soon. Yes, I'll bring Uncle Steve to say hello. Would you like to speak to Uncle Steve? Please say yes, because he's being more of a monkey than you and practically hugging me to listen in," Williams said, laughter in his voice. At the last statement, Marty noticed that indeed, McGarrett's hand had strayed to Williams' hip and his torso had become flush with the detective's shoulder and upper arm.

A slight nudge and the phone exchanged hands. "Hey Gracie," the Commander rasped. He cleared his throat a little. "I'm fine, kiddo, don't worry. I just hurt my shoulder a bit and I've got a few bruises. Nothing too bad. At least I haven't been shot, hey Grace Face?" The SEAL waited for a reply, eyes on Williams, who smiled fondly at him.

One of the Airmen strode over to where Marty was stood. "Sir, the plane is ready to leave. If you'd like to get your passengers aboard. Thank you," he said, before saluting, turning on his heel and walking away. Marty walked over to where the two men were stood.

"Excuse me, Detective. I'm going to have to ask you to board the plane now, so if you could finish up the conversation that would be much appreciated," he said. 

"Yeah, of course," Williams replied. He turned and tapped McGarrett. "Finish up, the plane is ready for boarding."

McGarrett nodded, "Listen Gracie, I've got to go now, we're getting on the plane. I'll pass you over to Danno." He handed the phone over and Williams said a few words and ended the call. 

"Thank you," Marty said. "This way, please." He turned and strode over to the boarding stairs and moved to one side. Harris was already on board, talking to the pilot and getting an ETA. The SEAL and the detective boarded the plane.

"Gee, Steve, I don't think I've ever been on such a nice plane when you've been around," drifted back.

"Seriously, Danno? Next time we go abroad, I'll make sure to have Air Force One on standby, just for you," came the sarcastic reply back.

"Doesn't Gibbs, from NCIS, owe you a favour? I think I heard from Kensi that one of the AFO's pilots owed him a favour," Williams replied.

"Just go sit down."

"Yes, sir." 

The SEAL herded the detective to the front row. "What? I need the leg room, even if you don't." 

"I will kick you, don't think I won't. One punch, one kick, and we might be even for that bullet." 

"Seriously? C'mon, Danny, that was ages ago. Why haven't you forgiven me yet?" Was that a whine that Marty could detect?

"You got me shot. On the first case we ever worked together. In fact, I should make that one hundred punches and one hundred kicks for all the times I've been shot, abducted or otherwise injured whilst in the line of duty," Williams began. Marty looked at the SEAL, and smirked slightly at the resignation on his face. Apparently these rants weren't uncommon. They really were like a married couple with all the touching and looking and ranting. In fact... Marty had to wonder if the phone call had been to their daughter, not just Detective Williams’. If it hadn’t been for the moniker ‘Uncle’, Marty would’ve been sure of it.

"Commander, Detective, Chief Calaghan and I will be seated in Row 7 if you need anything," Harris said to the two men.

"Thank you, Chief," McGarrett replied. He had ended up in the middle seat, with Williams sat by the window, despite the fact that it was a three seat row. Another testament to their closeness. Harris and Marty retired to the seventh row and strapped in. Marty could hear a quiet but steady stream of cursing coming from the window and he peeked between the seats. From his point of view, it appeared that the sassy detective was having trouble strapping himself in. "For God's sake, Danny, here," McGarrett leant over and strapped Williams in with his one good arm.

"Thank you," the detective murmured like a petulant child. 

The SEAL just grinned and lightly punched his arm, "No problem, Danno."

 

Eight Hours Later

The Commander had to be exhausted. Hell, Marty was exhausted and, despite all the caffeine in his system, was slowly dropping off to dreamland. Detective Williams had fallen asleep, head resting on McGarrett's shoulder, about two hours ago. He had slept for maybe three of the twenty-four hours that Marty and Harris had been posted to watch over them, and the guys they'd rotated their shifts with had said that he hadn't slept at all. So he was running on three hours sleep over three days. The guy deserved his sleep. But seriously, McGarrett had been captured, held captive, beaten, almost murdered, then been in a deep unconsciousness and was still going strong. Whatever the hell he was on, Marty wanted some of it.

"Hey, Marty, am I alright to kip for an hour?" Harris asked, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah sure. I'll wake you up and we can swap," Marty replied.

"Thanks man," Harris replied before sinking into sleep. Marty kept watching his two charges. They'd been instructed to have at least one pair of eyes on them at all times. Apparently they were a high flight risk. Marty honestly wondered what they'd done before. He debated going and asking, before deciding not to possibly kick up bad memories. 

Still, he got to his feet and ambled down to the front row. "Is everything okay, Commander? I couldn't help but notice that you haven't slept. Also, would you like me to get Detective Williams a pillow?"

"Hm? Oh, I'll sleep when I get home, don't worry. I've slept enough these past few days. And no, he's alright, but thanks for the offer. He might wake up and he gets grumpy when he's woken up." The SEAL grinned, showing pearly whites, "Especially if it's me waking him up. Apparently I don't let him sleep enough."

Now that Marty was closer, he could see the lines of exhaustion framing the Commander's face. "Don't tell him I said this, but Chief French is the same. Like an old man he is. Complains that he doesn't get enough sleep when he's deployed or when he's at home. His kid wakes him up at six o'clock every morning."

"Sounds like Grace," McGarrett said. "Hey, have a seat."

Marty did as he was told and sat. "Grace, sir?"

"Danny's daughter. Great kid. She's training for the President's Challenge at the moment. Got me running with her four times a week. Danny sleeps in, Grace and I go running. She's almost hitting a six minute mile," the pride in McGarrett's voice was evident.

"Steve?" A voice heavy with sleep rumbled from the detective's chest.

"Yeah, Danny?"

"Why aren't you sleeping like the rest of us mere mortals?"

"You know why, Danny," McGarrett replied. "Go back to sleep, I'm just talking to Chief Calaghan, don't worry. I'm not about to parachute out of anything."

"Good, because if you parachuted off of a plane, the entire thing would plummet towards the earth and everybody would be parachuting off. And then, I'd find you, kill you, resuscitate you and kill you again. Capiche?"

"Capiche. Now are you going to go back to sleep or not?"

Williams lifted his head, and it was kind of adorable the way he looked up at the Commander in complete frustration. He banged his forehead lightly against his human pillow's shoulder and sighed, "No. I'm awake now. And you are exhausted. Sleep. I'll wake you if necessary, don't worry."

"Yes, Danno," came back the obedient reply. "Nice talking to you, Chief. Ask Danny about Grace, he'll tell you all about her."

"Light of my life, that's why, now sleep!" And Marty watched as the SEAL tilted his head back and turned his face slightly towards Danny before closing his eyes and slowing his breathing. "You were talking about Grace? Let me tell about Grace. She is perfection in a human body. She's got the brains, from me not my ex-wife, obviously; she's athletic, God knows where she got that from, must be McSeal's influence; she's from New Jersey and appreciates real pizza and she is the most beautiful little girl in the world. Here, look, I've got a photo." 

Williams dug his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a photo, then handed it over to Marty. Marty studied the photo dutifully, having been assigned this task more than once in the past by Harris. In it was a pretty girl, wearing a yellow sundress, stood next to one Commander Steve McGarrett, all done up in his dress blues. Both had massive smiles on their faces. He passed the photo back, "She certainly is very pretty. Was that taken at your wedding?"

The Detective blinked. "My wedding? I'm not married, not anymore. No, its at a friend of our's wedding. He got married a couple of years ago. That photo's actually out of date, I should get a new one. I like that one though. I could frame it I suppose," Williams mused, eyes thoughtful. 

Marty glanced at his watch, "I'll leave you to it, Detective. I can imagine that Commander McGarrett isn't the only one who needs sleep."

"Thanks. I can imagine that you might want to wake your partner and swap shifts, you look like the walking dead."

Marty huffed, amused, and made his way back to his seat. Williams was right, he did need to sleep, but Harris had another half hour left. He could cope.

 

One Hour Later

"Steve! Steve, wake up! Babe!" Marty was roused to life by the insistent voice coming from the front of the plane. He lurched to his feet, a slight panic settling in his bones as he wondered if something was wrong and the plane was going to crash. He stumbled, a slight turbulence making the plane rock and cast his eyes to the front row. He could see the Commander's head thrashing side to side, and a slight rasp emitted from his throat. Williams had turned to face him, a hand on either shoulder, shaking him slightly. "For fuck sake, Steve, wake up!"

Marty wobbled down the aisle. "Detective?"

The cop glanced up, "It's fine, don't worry, I've got him."

"Are you sure, sir? He doesn't seem to be responding."

"Yes, I'm sure. I've done this before, I know what to do," snapped Williams. "Sorry, I'm tired and worried. It'll be fine, just, some privacy would be nice. Please?"

Marty nodded his head. "Of course. If you need anything, let me know."

The detective nodded and turned his full attention back to McGarrett. "Steve, babe, you gotta wake up." Marty turned and walked away, just a couple of rows up. He couldn't help but hover, to see how Williams dealt with the situation. 

He watched as Williams slid a thumb across the SEAL's cheek. The action seemed to soothe the thrashing man, even if it was just fractional. He did it again, a gentle caress over McGarrett's cheekbone. "That's it, babe. Come on, come back to me." The SEAL's eyes began to flutter and the deep crease between his eyes smoothed out slightly.

"Danny?"

And Marty was reminded of two days ago, when the Commander had asked the same question, with the same level of broken hope and uncertainty. He turned and walked away, back to his seat. That question made him feel like the following words would be too intimate for him to listen to, let alone watch the actions that accompanied them.


	3. Duke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke knows Five-0. More importantly, Duke knows Steve and Danny from Five-0.

Duke knew Five-0. He'd watched Chin Ho, Steve and Kono grow up. He'd attended some of Chin's high school football games, then attended some of Steve's and watched Kono surf, first as an amateur and then professionally. He'd been devastated when she'd torn her ACL and had to quit surfing. The Kelly's and Kalakaua's were practically family. Duke had grown up with Kam Tong Kelly and Ke'ano Kalakaua, and all their siblings. Gone to the same high school, surfed the same waves, partied at the same parties. They were ohana. Watching Chin be accused of theft and then leaving had almost broken his heart. And watching John McGarrett send Steven away had been painful. John had been snappy for weeks, even months, after. He'd slowly grown more withdrawn and then he'd been shot by Hesse and Steve had come back and damn, if he hadn't seen a younger Steve at his father's funeral. Damn if he hadn't seen a teenager saying goodbye to his mother and then to his father weeks later. And the Detective Daniel Williams had rolled up in all his haole glory. Smart-mouthed and sharp, the laid back cops of Honolulu hadn't liked him. Ostracised before they even gave him a chance. John McGarrett had been the only one to really give him a chance. Duke had stayed impartial. It was easier that way.

So yeah, Duke knew Five-0. In different ways, sure, but he knew Five-0. And he knew that whilst Steve had been in the Navy, he'd been slowly shutting himself off. And that Chin had been suffering over the allegations of theft. That Kono had been depressed after the end of her surfing career. That Danny had never liked Hawaii. He also knew that all of that had changed in the four years or so that Five-0 had been together.

Chin had lost the black cloud over his head when it had been revealed that it was his uncle who had stolen the money. Kono had slowly settled into being a cop. Danny had settled into Hawaii. He never stopped complaining, but it was all a bluff now and everyone knew it. And Steve had stopped being so damn uptight. He'd relaxed and chilled out a bit. Duke could see that Steve had helped Danny and that Danny had helped Steve. Steve had accepted Danny straight off, albeit to a rather rocky start, and Danny had wormed his way under Steve's skin and made him show emotion. 

Duke could see how much the team depended on each other. But Steve and Danny depended on each other more than they depended on the ohana they'd created together. 

The story of how they'd first met had been told a thousand times. Guns pointed at each other over John's Marquis; guns down on the count of three; credentials shown; Steve being sworn in as an officer of the law and Danny being made his partner. It was probably the only time that a gun pointed at Steve had ever benefited him so much without anyone dying after. Probably the only reasonably happy memory of guns in the McGarrett house. What had followed had been even better. Steve putting Danny in an arm lock, telling him that he didn't have to like him. Danny standing up and punching Steve, telling him he was right, he didn't like him, before walking away. Duke had seen the entire event. Duke had seen the look on Steve's face: shock, bewilderment and a new found, grudging respect. Things had only gone up from then.

They hadn't liked each other. But slowly, a mutual respect had blossomed. Steve had been amused by Danny's rants, Danny had been terrified of Steve's utter lack of correct police procedure. If Five-0 didn't have means and immunity, Duke would have arrested each of them at least a hundred times. Steve maybe three times that number. Danny would have been dragged down as an accomplice. Bless means and immunity. But they got the job done and they worked well together. Danny had introduced Steve to Grace. Steve had told Danny bits and bobs about his past. They had grown together. Become friends. Become best friends.

But what they had grown into now wasn't something that even Duke could name. It was different to everything he'd ever seen. There was a bond, a massively powerful connection between them. Even the strongest romantic relationship couldn't match up it to it. They were in different leagues. Steve and Danny were in a different league.

Duke had seen Steve around Catherine. Duke had seen Danny around first Gabby, and then Amber. And even those relationships couldn't compare.

Around Catherine, Steve was still slightly withdrawn. He was fond of her, yes, he loved her in his own way, yes, but he didn't love Cath like he loved Danny. In all honesty, Duke thought that Steve and Cath had very little in common besides the Navy. Maybe absent fathers was something they had in common. Cath had been a Navy brat after all, and Steve shipped off to the mainland at fifteen. Or maybe it was that Cath and Steve had too much in common. They reminded each other of themselves too much. Too much Navy around for them to be truly comfortable.

Around Gabby, Danny had always appeared slightly uncomfortable. He played the part of comfort well around her, but part of it was forced. He couldn't really relate to her. They were interested in different things. Gabby liked history, Danny liked sports. Gabby liked to read, Danny liked to rant at the TV. Gabby preferred tea, Danny coffee. He was more comfortable around Amber. They both had baggage and that helped them connect. Two fractured people trying to heal. They both preferred coffee. But the relationship was still fragile. There were boundaries that neither dared to push.

But Danny pushed Steve's boundaries and Steve pushed Danny's in retaliation. They didn't hide from each other, they kept no secrets - well, Steve did but they were classified secrets - and they weren't afraid to do it either. They shared Grace, Danny and Steve, spending almost all of Danny's weekends with her together, staying over at Steve's. Grace saw more Danny and Steve than she did Danny and Amber. 

Their affection for each other shone through their words and actions as well. Multiple times Duke had heard the words "Love you, buddy" and "Love you too". And the hugs. Hugs that encompassed more than just the other's body. Their hugs encompassed their entire being. Their spirits, their minds, their hearts. All of it enveloped in one massive bubble of love and happiness and 'we've made it another day'. They touched each other all the time: fingers resting on a forearm, shoulders bumping, hips brushing, a hand to the lower back. If Duke wasn't so glad for the happiness that they'd found in each other, he'd feel sick from all the sappiness.

The lengths that they went to for each other. Steve flew to Columbia with Danny to fetch back Matthew Williams. Even though it had gone massively south, Steve had still been there. And Danny had gone to North Korea, Cambodia, even Afghanistan, to fetch Steve back. Miles of land and water couldn't stop their bond. It didn't even stretch it, just strengthened it, each and every time. It fascinated Duke.

And there was a level of trust. Duke trusted all of his partners with his life, but it took time to reach that level. It hadn't with Steve and Danny. From day one, even if they hadn't trusted the other with anything else, they'd trusted each other with their lives. Slowly, the trust had developed. Now, they trusted each other with their lives, pasts, secrets, families. Duke knew that Danny trusting Steve with Grace was even bigger than Danny trusting Steve with his life. Duke knew that Steve knew that too.

So yeah, Duke knew Five-0. But Duke didn't know what to call Steve and Danny's relationship, because it was nothing he'd ever seen before.


	4. Pointless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a drabble from Rick Peterson's POV.

He saw it as Danny raised the gun to Stan Edwards. The tall, tanned man running towards him, weapon holstered. The shots fired but still McGarrett’s weapon stayed holstered. He saw the panic and the worry that marred his features; the way Danny’s name was hanging on his lips until it fell with a panic infused cry. He saw the entire endeavour of payback for what it was: pointless. Danny may have lost Rachel, but he hadn’t lost everything. He still had Steve McGarrett. He still had a family and people who loved him with their entire beings. He sighed.


	5. Beautiful and natural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coda to Ka Iwi Kapu, from the homeless man's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for y'all having to wait so long for chapters. It can be quite difficult to find the right person and mindset for writing, plus I have exams and whatnot going on at the moment. Hopefully during the summer I should be able to pop a few out :)

The tall dangerous one laughs at the rude haole but it’s done without heat. Then he tries to describe the sacredness of the burial ground, a smile lingering on his face like he knows what’s coming next before it’s even happened, to the haole. Sure enough, the haole climbs over and the warrior rolls his eyes. A flash of anger burns through his body at the callous disrespect the blonde shows, even when his aikāne tells him the ground is laa. 

Hidden in the trees, he watches the haole examine the ground where the other komohewa had gone and never returned from. The ancestors had protected themselves when he had failed. But this man he could punish. He waited until the dangerous warrior, calm man and the wahine koa had been blessed and entered before enacting his punishment. The rock, half a foot in diameter, smashed through the car's rear window with a satisfying shatter. Quickly, he melts back into the shadows, miraculously unnoticed in the beehive of activity, and begins to watch.

When the haole and the warrior arrive back at the car and hour later, he allows himself a small grin of happiness. The trespassing of the sacred ground of the ancestors is avenged. The haole is furious, ranting at the tall one who takes it in his practised stride, the fond smile back in place, aqua eyes filled with mirth. 

He’s surprised that he feels jealous of the two men. Many years ago, he had had an aikāne, but time had pulled them apart. He finds, despite his dislike of the haole, that he hopes their closeness remains for all eternity. It is a beautiful thing to witness, and he is fond of the beautiful and natural. Their bond is beautiful and natural.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was inspired by another author's end note about their desire for a fic from one of the Master-at-Arms' POV. If you see this, could you let me know and then I can gift it to you, thanks. I hope I've done your prompt justice :)


End file.
